Friday, June 24, 2011

Through The Roof & Underground

Last night I hit Real Sports for the Raptors Draft Party. (Thanks to Raptorman Steve for the tickets!)

Fun times were had by all. Or, at least, by me.


You know I'm always a fan of free drinks and tasty food.

But the fairly well-hidden Sport Chick side of me was becoming slightly fangirl-ish at the idea of hanging out with the Raptors and the broadcasters I watch on TV all the time.


Like Matt Devlin (who is pretty damn nice, although I know a lot of Raps fans aren't exactly Devlin lovers).


 And Dwane Casey, the new coach. The key to future success? We shall see.


Fans bein' fans... discussing the new pick, Jonas Valanciunas:


Welcome dude!


Photo op with Ed Davis - he did not seem overly happy to talk to fans. Bad day, Ed? Hmm..


Leo! Thanks for the wave.


"HELLO!!"

Jack was awesome. After we took this, he came down to talk and take some more pics with me.


Yep.


Thumbs up to you, Jack.


I was on a mission to meet and get a picture with James Johnson (or, as I call him - NinjaRaptor). Problem was, he stayed in the VIP section that we regular folk were not supposed to be in.

But you know me.

I make friends.


And make friends I did. With two guys that work with the Raptors (their job is pretty much to make sure the players are happy. Awesome.)

They got me into VIP and introduced me to James.


See? FanGirl. He's a flirty summabitch, lemme tell ya. That's all I'll say about that on here.

Very nice, though. Personable and friendly.


My new best friend on the left. He made the intro, he made it happen, and he had us hanging out in VIP where everything is free and everyone was 'somebody'.

Y'know... except for me.

I'm a nobody, but I can fake it well!


Sherman!

Talked to him for awhile about jobs, Jonas, the lockout and whether or not I could hire him.

We may or may not have discussed hookers. Briefly.


Can I join the Raptors Dance Pak now? No? Ok, fine.




Thanks for having good humour, Devlin.

Let's pretend that the rain and heat didn't make me look haggard 'n gross.


After the party, we had the pleasure of meeting up with T (above) and heading to the Dakota for some fun live music. Reminded me of Gogol Bordello, and I maybe kinda sorta lined-danced with some strangers


I think I'm still tired.

Tuesday, June 21, 2011

Cobra Matte

I've been fairly MIA on the interweb lately. Mostly from constant sickness, and also due to some crazy events over the weekend.

Other than being sick a lot, my weekend consisted of a not-so-fun end to my Friday night (which I'll explain), being locked out of my apartment with my unleashed dog, my sister and her husband (thanks to the bro-in-law for his ninja skills), accidentally painting my entire bathroom with Pepto Bismol (never again will my bathroom suffer the pain of indigestion), etc, etc... luckily ending the weekend with a day on the beach.


But back to my Friday night.

Headed to the Horseshoe with some friends for NXNE. Had fun, even in spite of being groped and then punched by an overly drunk kid who was then kicked out.

Cut to the end of the night, I started walking home. Having a bit of a hissy fit over an argument of some sort with one of my friends, I just kept walking on my own. Lines of communication were somehow crossed, as I thought I had been ditched and didn't realize we were stopping for food. I digress... point is, I walked home by myself because I'm an idiot.

There, I said it.


As I walked, a cabbie stopped a couple of times to see if I wanted a ride. I waved him on both times, telling him that I was fine and wanted to walk.

By the time I hit Queen & Dufferin, I was still arguing with my friend via texts and phone calls and got a bit upset. So, being the idiot that I was that night, I sat and cried for a minute - feeling stupid will do that to a chick at 4am.


And so, as I sat there crying, the same cabbie stopped again. He told me that he wasn't letting me walk anymore, and I obviously wasn't ok. Not really in the mood to argue, I went to open the door to the backseat. But he got out of the car and opened the front passenger door for me. So out of politeness, I sat in the front.

As we drove, my friend called and heard the cabbie say that he was going to take a different route to my house. Realizing that was a bad sign, my friend asked to be put on speakerphone so he could talk to the driver. With some yelling, and some threatening, he made sure the cabbie would take the direct route to my house.


During the ride, as I'm crying, the cabbie kept handing me tissues and saying "you're too beautiful to cry, you're so wonderful, you deserve to be happy", etc, etc...

We finally got to my house and I asked for the debit machine. He said "No charge."

I was confused by this, but figured he was taking pity on a crying girl he found on the side of the road. I was wrong. I thanked him and went to leave, but the doors were locked.

And so he grabbed my head and kissed me. He wiped my cheeks as he did it, and called me "beautiful" again. I moved away, and he groped me and grabbed my head and kissed me again. All the while, I'm trying to unlock the door and get the hell out of there.

Finally, I did. I bolted out of the car and into my house.



When my friend heard about this, he begged me to call the cops. But I didn't know what cab company it was, and I didn't know his name. I was in such a state that I didn't pay attention to those minor details. Now I wish I had.

I realize that, in a way, it's a bad idea to post this. My parents will not be happy; they will worry. But here's why I am - this shit is not cool. I was vulnerable, and this disgusting man took advantage of that. I don't ever want to be put in that situation again, and I don't want to hear about anyone else in it.

Don't make my mistakes.

If you're alone, always sit in the back - forget politeness if the driver opens a door for you. Always pay attention to the name of the driver and the cab company. Always have your phone available, just in case.

And always, always be prepared to kick some ass if anyone ever tries to take advantage of you. I won't make the same mistake any more.

If I ever see that asshole again? Trust that he won't be calling me beautiful much longer.



Thursday, June 16, 2011

Burning In The Corner Is The Only One Who Dreams He Had You With Him

Wants and needs are sometimes very different.

I need some good distractions. My current ones aren't cuttin' it.

I want things to go as I envision them. Ideas that come to fruition.


I need to make normal faces. And locate my other eye.

I want to win the lottery. Then money won't be the measure of success.


I need to think before I bite things. Do you know where that's been?

I want to find someone who gets me. Who gives me the butterflies I've long forgotten.


I need to learn how to use these. Once and for all - I'll skate, dammit.

I want to make you smile. But I only make you angry.


I need to get rid of these punks. They're plotting to eat my dog.

I want a hammock. Now, thanks.

I need a freelance website designer. Email me about projects.

I want a crazy happy feeling that I can hold onto. One that isn't forced or unsure.


I need this girly more than anything else. She keeps me in check.

I want some things I don't yet have. But I'll get 'em.I always do... eventually.


What do you want? What do you need?


Monday, June 13, 2011

And What I Learn From You Is That History Is Just The Things We Do

The following message is the Shambled Email o' The Week.

I laughed, I cried, I did dishes and took a nap.

Take it however ya will, and remember - I judge all yer emails:




Dear Miss Ramblings,

The other day as I was resisting arrest for downloading too many Japanese anime movies, the SWAT team accidentally noticed the floor to ceiling shrine I have dedicated to you.

At first I though this might be my chance to escape. I figured your handsomely chiseled face would stun the stormtroopers into an erotic submission (which I was at that moment experiencing). But I guess their special anti-moonray goggles disrupted your siren song.

So yeah I am now writing you from federal prison.

But it's not so bad here, thanks for asking. They have warm food and crafts. And I of course I have you. Every time I look at my right palm, there you are, looking right back at me.

No literally. I got your face tattooed on my right palm. It's an anime version of your face that I think would fit you nicely. Ever think of plastic surgery to maybe move your eyes a little bit further apart? You know, maybe just a new hairstyle would do. Kinda spikier and bluer.

Anyways, I decided to get my left palm tattooed with MY face. That way, every time I applaud something, it's like we're having a loud conversation with short undecipherable words. But I'll know what you're saying... *CLAP CLAP CLAP* ... Yes? Seal wanna fishie?

I hope this email finds you well. I was the first person to see your last post because I have your blog on a 1 second automatic refresh. I don't think you should talk to that video guy anymore. He sounds very
normal and well adjusted. I didn't think your tongue thing was something that should have turned him on, because it wasn't for him. Your tongue is for me and our pet unicorn Isosceles only.

I knew you were talking to me in that video because my mom said she drank a lot of Labatt 50 when she was pregnant. And you were drinking Labatt 50, which I'm like 34% percent made of. So you were drinking
me and that means you like me. I think he should not be rude to you anymore and instead drive into a ditch or a Tim Hortons.

Oh look it's time to go have a prison shower. There's some nice guys in the shower. One guy even kinda looks like you if I close my eyes and hold my breath. And yes, you were amazing, of course! Just how I envisioned it to be, minus the soap and the taste.

Anyways, take care!

Your biggest fan,
Stan, the future Mr. Ramblings


Thursday, June 9, 2011

So Don't You Lock Up Something That You Wanted To See Fly

Sometimes when I'm in a group of people, I like to show everyone how I can fold my tongue into three.

It's unattractive. It's dumb. But I do it anyway. Just cuz I can, and most people can't.

A couple of weeks ago, a bunch of friends and I were having beers on a patio. Some of the guys were talking about how they could fold their tongue in half, so - of course - I had to one-up them all. Long story short, we shot a video tutorial so everyone can learn to be a loser like me.

Enjoy responsibly. And please keep in mind that this is probably around 1am. At a bar. A bar with beer.

Kapow!





Monday, June 6, 2011

Metaphor For A Missing Moment

I swear like a sailor.
Debate like a champ.
Pound back beers on patios and in dirty pubs.
I'm happy in band tshirts and ripped jeans.

I can take what you throw at me. And dish it out better.
I'm most comfortable in a group of guys - talking shit and having a laugh.

I am, for the most part, one of the guys.

But sometimes
I just might have to remind you


That I am, in fact, a woman.


You can dress me up.


Take me out.


And find out why girls
who are 'one of the boys'
can be the very best kind.


Thursday, June 2, 2011

She Lets Her Ladder Down For Those Who Really Shine


This fun-haired food freak is my older seester, Steph. She shows off her culinary-ness (yeah, I make up words) over on her site, Stephfood.

Y'see, while similar in many ways, our differences are kinda major. She's the daughter my Mom always wanted while I'm the son my Dad never had.

And so, in keeping with said differences, Steph can cook. And likes to cook. (Whaaat?!)

I'm a master of toast and Kraft Dinner while she creates tasty, pretty things I can't always pronounce. (Wtf is a Papas Rellenas and Ceviche? That doesn't sound like a Big Mac and fries at all.)

Ok, ok... so I don't love cooking unless it's for someone else. And even then? Meh. Can't promise it'll be all that great.

But I swear, we're sisters.


See? Sisters.

Le Seester Steph used to be in a pretty committed relationship with vegetarianism, but they later decided to see other people. She's now become a 'flexitarian'. As such, her cooking has expanded into new territory, one that I can get on board with.

And this is where you monkeys come in. I've decided to force my dear sister to teach me how to cook one of her delicious dishes, and to put it on camera for my next video blog. The results will surely be... uh, interesting.  She may want to strangle me, and I may set her kitchen on fire. Who knows?

So... what do you guys think she should teach me to cook, so that all of you can watch and laugh at my sad lack of skills?



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